


Need

by moth2fic



Series: The arrangement [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fictionwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/gifts).



Rodney, it seemed, was even more of a Canadian - a stereotypical one - than he was a scientist. He loved nature and the outdoors and flora and fauna with a passion that amazed John.

When asked how much he'd seen of his native flora, fauna and scenery, given the time he had spent studying, he replied, "Not much, really. Not enough. But, you know, it was always there. At any moment I could have opened the door and gone out into it all. There was something comforting about that. Here, on the other hand..."

Admittedly Atlantis was short on nature walk facilities and trips to the mainland needed planning of an almost military nature, not to mention some carefully scheduled free time. 

"But we go out into nature red in tooth and claw almost every time we go on a mission," said John, but Rodney pointed out that the 'red in tooth and claw' or bug or pollen or whatever was the biggest part of it and not quite what he needed.

John saw him looking sadly at their rather utilitarian room and at the view from their windows which simply showed them a strip of calm sea inlet and then some more Atlantis façade on the other side. The dolphin-type sea creatures and the few birds never seemed to come near. 

There were videos, of course, of Earth stuff. Things like David Attenborough or even Northern Exposure with its quirky look at the top bit of America, but these, John thought, made Rodney seem sadder than ever so they returned to ice hockey, baseball and comedy shows. Not sci-fi - that was too weird, and not serious drama because who wanted serious drama after a day of serious drama on Atlantis?

So John watched and thought and wondered. 

He had always like whittling, as he called it. It soothed both his hands and his busy mind, letting him drift into a happy place where he could still consider problems he was solving but not drown in them. Over the years, he'd become quite skilled and most people would now consider what he did to be professional carving on a small scale. He knew about wood, too.

Sometimes, while he was watching something on his own because Rodney was either holed up in the lab or hunched over the laptop on their shared desk, John would whittle. He gathered bits of wood here and there, some of them from other worlds, always careful to have them examined and declared free of toxins or malice. He tried, too, to avoid thorns because they tended to make a mess of his pockets when he came back with his loot. Besides, nowadays, it wasn't unknown for Rodney to pat him in the general region of said pockets once they were heading for the jumper or the gate, and he didn't want to impale his husband on an alien spike. Not only because he'd never hear the last of it. 

Today he had a piece of whitish wood, picked up somewhere he couldn't remember. It had a lovely grain, swirls of pale grey giving the piece an air of movement and life. He looked at it for a while then took out his knife. 

Rodney was thrilled with the belt buckle, and kept fingering the Canada goose lovingly. John was almost jealous. He had made full use of the grain of the wood to suggest feathers and flight and had employed some dark polish to show the black head. All in all, the goose was a success, and Rodney was soon showing John that jealousy could be abandoned. 

So John thought some more. 

He got hold of a rectangle of dark wood that was part of some piece of furniture someone was renovating. Renovating apparently meant shortening so John found himself in possession of a good piece of wood and had to ask for help to get it sawn into smaller, more manageable chunks. Then he began. 

Rodney needed wildlife, so Rodney should have wildlife. At last John proudly installed a back-splash above the basin in the little bathroom. He had used a waterproof varnish that made the wood almost black and allowed it to survive near their hand washing and mouth rinsing. He was thrilled to see Rodney stroking the pads of his index fingers over the curves of the seahorse and the tiny octopus. 

"Like it, then?" he said.

"It's beautiful," said Rodney. "It starts to fill that need I have for nature in our lives."

"I thought we had our own nature." John grinned provocatively.

"You know what I mean, John. There's more to life than work and sex."

John pretended to consider. "Well," he said, "there's eating." But Rodney just glared. 

He spent longer than usual in the bathroom every time after that, but jealousy was not allowed to gain a place in their lives.

John looked carefully at the rest of the wood he had and decided to cut it further so that he had three equal pieces, each designed to fit along one of the three sills of their window. When the whittling was done, he fitted them without telling Rodney. That evening, Rodney came home while it was still light but only just. He turned automatically to the window to adjust the blinds and stopped, taking a deep breath and standing very still, his eyes fixed on the new decorations. 

Small birds clustered on one sill, pecking at something even smaller on a beach while a cluster of butterflies flew overhead. On the central panel a couple of penguins looked on lovingly as their egg hatched in the snow. How John had created the coolness of snow in the dark wood was a mystery even to the carver himself. The third section showed Atlantis style dolphins leaping from the waves while earth seals watched from a rock. 

"I can't... I have to keep looking... they might... what did you do?" Rodney was incoherent, not a totally strange state for him but more pronounced than usual. 

"I thought our room could do with more wildlife, is all," said John. "I know it isn't real but..."

"...but the wood is real, and you've captured these creatures perfectly. I'm sure they could come alive. You know there are people who believe we shouldn't attempt to create pictures or sculptures of animals in case our art takes life and something is missing? Well, these could just walk out as they are and take their place in the wider world. They're magnificent, John." Rodney was almost babbling and was not taking his eyes off the woodwork. John had to close the blinds and lead his husband to the bed, gently but firmly, and then take his mind off the carvings until it was time for dinner and both their stomachs were rumbling.

By Valentine's Day John had added to the desk furniture with a pen holder. A squirrel sat bolt upright, tail seeming to quiver, a giant acorn cup clasped in avaricious paws. The pens fitted nicely, and John noticed Rodney frequently stroked the squirrel's tail with the back of his fingers when he'd lifted an implement from the holder or replaced it. Not that Rodney did much replacing; it was always John who tidied up. 

It was a while before John could think what else to do but he knew there was still a gap in Rodney's life. He couldn't provide more nature outside, even on their missions, so he wanted to make their room as comfortable and comforting as he could. He realised that when they were in bed they couldn't see the bathroom plaque, or the window sills, and they were back in a visually sterile environment. But he couldn't think how to change things until one day, practising with Teyla, he noticed the length of her fighting sticks. 

Some swift (if difficult) negotiations followed but soon John was the proud possessor of a long copper coloured wooden rod, hard enough to match steel when the two materials clashed, yet somehow also easy to cut and carve. Not that he was going to cut it. Not when it was almost exactly the width of their bed.

He carved the leaves first. He made a hedge then added the inhabitants. Night animals peeped from behind the twigs and leaves and buds. A tiny mouse had found a berry to stash away for winter. A shrew was creeping through the grass at the foot of the hedge. A hedgehog seemed to grunt as he pulled at a worm. There was the shadow of a young fox almost hidden in the foliage. And an owl swooped low hinting of danger and a right to life. 

It would have made a wonderful headboard piece but John knew that if it graced the top of their headboard it would be magnificent as anyone entered the room but largely invisible from anyone in bed. Instead, he fixed it carefully to the foot rail and admired his own handiwork. He thought it might be his best yet, but of course it was for Rodney so he'd had incentive. 

Rodney was overwhelmed. He kept looking and looking, seeing and commenting on more and more detail then kissing John and then disrupting the ensuing lovemaking to look again. 

"Well, you shouldn't have done it then," he said crossly, when John remonstrated. "You fulfil one of my deepest needs then want me to stop looking at it."

"Only for a few minutes," said John, hopefully. "And does it really fill that need, Rodney? I mean, they aren't real."

"They're about as real as the nature I dreamed about in Canada," said Rodney. "They're there, reminding me of what I could go out and see. And they look real, John." But he turned his attention to his husband and at last they lay sated in each other's arms. 

Rodney fell asleep first, definitely not snoring. John held him close and sighed a happy sigh. Rodney had so many needs and he, John, had seen to some of them. For John, it was easy. He only needed Rodney.


End file.
